The Land of the Living
by AnastaziaDanielle
Summary: Mitchell is not a vampire; George is not a werewolf; and Annie is very much alive. Mitchell/Annie AU
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Being Human. It belongs to Toby Whithouse.

Author's Note: This story is AU. Mitchell is not a vampire. George is not a werewolf. Annie is very much alive. I'm new to the fandom, so I'm a bit nervous about posting this. I know there are some fandoms where AUs are not readily accepted.

The Land of the Living

Chapter 1

John Mitchell trundled down the sterile hospital hallway pushing his mop and bucket. Another day, another puddle of vomit or pile of crap; in this case it was a puddle of urine just outside of the bathroom door. He lifted the dripping mop from the bucket, squeezed out the excess water, and expertly rid the floor of the yellow stain. He placed a caution sign over the wet circle he left behind and moved on toward the emergency room down the hall where some bloke had launched projectile vomit all over a doctor, the bed, and the floor. It was going to be a long night.

Mitchell, he'd dropped the John years ago because of the bad memories the name dredged up, didn't mind the job really. He lived in a decent place with his roommate George, and the job paid the bills. He didn't have to take work home with him. The only thing that got to him sometimes was that the job offered him too much time to think, to dwell on the past and things he'd rather forget.

Great Aunt Tillie, for example, was one of those things best left forgotten. If he concentrated, he could still hear her shouting his name. "Jooohn, get your sorry butt in here and clean this kitchen. It is filthy! Jooohn, don't make me get my strap!" And she'd use it, too. He could easily remember the feel of the sting across his backside when he did something he knew Aunt Tillie would not approve of.

Mitchell shook his head as if to clear it of the memories. Thoughts of Aunt Tillie always led to a deep longing for his parents who had died when he was seven in a car accident. From what he could remember, he'd had a good life with them. Much better than what he'd survived with Aunt Tillie.

Huffing a sigh, he continued toward the ER and the waiting vomit. He passed a young nurse, new to the hospital, and she met his gaze shyly. He tossed a smile back, making a mental note to introduce himself later. The ladies, they all loved him. The thought made him feel a bit smug, but at the same time he had never been able to keep a relationship going. He didn't know how. Since the death of his parents there had been no love in his life. Perhaps he was afraid of being hurt or maybe it was a fear of commitment; Mitchell wasn't sure. He only knew that he was tired of being alone. It wasn't just the idea of being alone. It was a deep, aching loneliness, almost like a hollow pit in his stomach.

Mitchell had found that he could be in a room full of people and still feel lonely. Even at home with George and George's girlfriend Nina, Mitchell always felt like the third wheel. He was haunted by his loneliness; he wanted to break free, but he didn't know how.

"Hey, Mitchell, hurry up! Doctor Slocumbe's in a right state!" the head nurse barked.

Mitchell nodded making his dark curls bounce slightly before he headed in the direction the nurse pointed. The smell hit him before he saw the vomit. It was foul.

"I am so sorry," a voice was saying. He glanced up to find a pretty woman with caramel skin and dark, springy curls looking at him apologetically.

"Owen is just so sick. He couldn't help it." She clutched the hand of a young man who was curled up in fetal position on the bed.

"Annie, why are you apologizing?" the prone form on the bed moaned miserably. "It's his job to clean up other people's messes."

"Owen," Annie interrupted.

The dark-haired patient kept talking. "If he'd earned a college degree like the rest of us, he wouldn't be here, now would he? Then he could have a cushy desk job instead of cleaning up vomit and urine."

Annie stared at Owen incredulously before glancing up to gauge Mitchell's reaction, an apologetic look on her face.

"No worries," Mitchell smiled although he was boiling inside. "I'll have it cleaned up in jiff." He saw Annie visibly relax when he didn't respond to Owen's taunting. This guy was a real piece of work; he could feel his cheeks flushing in anger and he hoped Annie didn't notice.

Mitchell made quick work of the floor and nodded at Annie before rolling his yellow bucket out of Owen's cubicle in the ER.

Next up was a spilled soda in the waiting room. Mitchell was thankful that the night was busy; it made his shift go by faster.

"He just doesn't feel well; that's why he's acting this way," a voice behind him piped up.

Mitchell turned to find the young woman, Annie, standing behind him wringing her hands nervously.

"I am so very sorry for the way Owen acted. He's been so sick that I'm not really sure he knows what he's saying." She tucked a curl behind her ear.

Mitchell found himself smiling at her. "It's all right; I've heard much worse."

Annie offered a small smile in return and fumbled in the pocket of her jeans for some change. "Well, uh, thanks," she nodded. "Have a good night."

"You, too," Mitchell answered, wishing he could think of something else to say to her. "I hope your friend feels better."

"He's actually my fiancé," Annie replied. "And thanks."

Her fiancé. Mitchell had grasped onto the slim chance that perhaps they were only friends. He nodded and turned back to mopping up the soda.

Across the room, Annie studied the soda machine before depositing her money and pushing the correct button. Nothing happened. She pushed the button again, harder this time. Still nothing. Finally, she jabbed it repeatedly with her finger while muttering curses under her breath.

"Here, let me help you," a soft Irish accent lilted over her shoulder.

Annie turned to see the porter, the one who had cleaned up Owen's vomit.

"This machine has a mind of its own really," he smiled before whacking the machine solidly on the side with the palm of his hand. "Push the button again."

She did so, and the machine finally released her soda. "Thanks," Annie grinned, "uhhh…I'm sorry; I don't know your name."

"Mitchell," he smiled.

"It was nice to meet you, Mitchell. I'm Annie." She extended her hand and Mitchell took it.

"It's an honor, Annie, and now I must be off. Loads of vomit and other nasty things to keep me busy tonight." All he really wanted to do was stay and get to know her more, but she had a fiancé. It was best to forget all about the curly-haired woman with the expressive dark eyes and gorgeous smile.

"Goodnight, Mitchell."

The dark-haired porter nodded and pushed his mop bucket through the crowded waiting room. His shift stayed busy after that. He never made it back to the ER. He checked before leaving for home, and Annie and her fiancé were already gone. What would he have said anyway? It's not like he could ask her out or anything. The woman was already engaged.

Mitchell heaved a sigh and headed home. He was exhausted and his stomach rumbled hungrily. Perhaps George and Nina would have breakfast ready when he arrived.

He parked in front of the pink house he shared with his friends and pulled his black leather coat closer around him. The air had a nasty bite to it this morning. Gray clouds scudded angrily overhead and hinted that rain was on the way. Mitchell fumbled in his pocket for his keys and let himself into the house. The smell of coffee permeated the air and helped to chase away the chill that lingered in his bones.

"Hey, Mitchell," George greeted as he hurried past and tugged his jacket on, all the while knocking his glasses askew. He reached up and straightened them before turning back to his friend. "How was your shift?"

"Not bad," Mitchell shrugged.

George's girlfriend, Nina, appeared in the kitchen doorway with her coat on and a bag slung over her shoulder. "Mitchell, I left a plate for you on the stove."

"Thanks, Nina. You're the best," Mitchell grinned, his stomach rumbling at the thought of food.

"We're off then," George called. "See you tonight."

Mitchell made his way into the kitchen as his friends left for work. He poured himself a mug of coffee and eagerly carried the plate Nina had left for him to the table. It didn't take him long to devour the toast, sausage, and eggs. He washed them down with the last swig of his coffee and cleaned up his dishes before heading upstairs to his room. He ignored the mess and shrugged out of his clothes, throwing them in the floor to join the pile of soiled clothing already there. He fell onto bed clothed only in his boxers and immediately dropped off to sleep.

"_Hello, Mitchell."_

"_Annie?" he asked, whirling around in the hospital corridor to face her._

_She grinned back at him, all chocolate eyes and curly hair. "It's me," she laughed. _

"_What are you doing here?" he asked in confusion. "Where's Owen?"_

_Her face darkened at the mention of her fiancé's name. "Oh, he's around," she shrugged. "Will you help me with the soda machine?" she asked innocently. "It ate my coins."_

"_Sure," Mitchell responded, amazed that Annie was here and talking to him._

A furious pounding woke Mitchell with a start. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and groggily looked at the clock. It was two in the afternoon.

Groaning, he rolled out of bed and slipped into a pair of jeans he found on the floor before making his way downstairs to the door. When he opened it, no one was there. He heaved a sigh of frustration and stepped out to look up and down the sidewalk. A salesman had moved on to offer goods to the house next door.

A catcall across the street caught his attention. A group of teenage girls, backpacks slung over their shoulders, strutted down the street. "Hey, handsome!" one of them called, blowing him a kiss.

Mitchell glanced down and realized he was bare-chested. Biting back a sigh, he retreated into the house and shut the door, thoughts of Annie invading his mind once again. He told himself it was ridiculous to even think of her. He'd never see her again. Her fiancé was a patient in the hospital where he worked, a job where he cleaned up puke and crap for a living. Annie was definitely too good for him anyway.

Rubbing his face, Mitchell decided he needed more coffee or maybe something stronger if he was going to get Annie off of his mind.

Mitchell couldn't help himself. Vision of the caramel-skinned woman with the chocolate eyes and springy curls popped into his head at the most inopportune moments. He had dreamed about her a few times and even thought he'd seen her at the hospital once or twice. This wasn't healthy, was it, to be so obsessed with a woman he hardly knew?

When he saw her at the hospital a few days later, he nearly had to pinch himself to ensure he wasn't dreaming. "Annie?" he asked tentatively as he pushed his mop bucket up to her cubicle in the ER. He realized that this time, she was the patient. She was seated on the edge of the bed holding one arm to her protectively. She winced as she turned to look at him. His stomach dropped when he saw that her left eye was already beginning to swell shut.

"Annie, what happened?" he breathed, letting go of his mop and moving to stand beside the bed.

"Mitchell, fancy meeting you here." She laughed nervously and refused to meet his eyes. "I'm so clumsy," she answered in a shaky voice. "Fell down the steps."

Mitchell regarded her carefully. She seemed nervous and uncomfortable; something didn't sit right with him, but he didn't know Annie very well. It wasn't his place to push. Instead, he offered her reassurance. "The doctor will get you feeling better. I'll check back in on you soon. Got a puker down the hall."

Annie wrinkled her nose and in Mitchell's mind it made her look adorable. "Guess Owen's virus is making its way around, huh?" she admitted.

Mitchell noticed she stuttered over Owen's name and suspicion built in his gut. "I'll be back in just a bit," he smiled reassuringly. Annie nodded and he could feel her eyes on his back as he pushed his bucket down the way hall to the foul smelling vomit.

After he cleaned up the puke, Mitchell had been called upstairs to gather some dirty linens. It was an hour later and time for his break before he was able to return to the ER to check on Annie. He found her arm being wrapped in a plaster cast.

"Silly me managed to break my arm," she sighed when she saw him.

"I'm glad it was only your arm," he commented. "It could have been much worse."

"Yes, you're right, I suppose," she admitted, watching as the doctor finished up.

"Let me take you for a cup of coffee before you leave," Mitchell found himself blurting out.

Annie smiled. "Are you sure?"

"Please, I'd love to make your day a little bit better," he replied.

"Well, make it tea and you've got a deal," Annie grinned. "Owen can't get here to pick me up for another hour."

Mitchell wished he could take her home, but he had another four hours left on his shift. "I could call you a cab."

She shook her head. "No, Owen would be upset if I didn't let him take me home." She didn't mention it was one of the ways he felt he made up for hurting her. Besides, she didn't really want to go home right now. If she was home alone, all she would do is think, and that's the last thing she wanted.

Mitchell helped her down from the bed and studied her eye carefully. "You've got quite a shiner," he admitted. "Let me get you some ice."

It didn't take him long to produce a baggie of ice wrapped in a towel and then he led her to the cafeteria where he settled her at a table before going to purchase tea for her and coffee for himself.

Annie greeted him with a friendly smile when he returned to the table. "Thanks, Mitchell. I really appreciate this."

"Anytime, Annie," he replied, hoping she believed him. "Are you sure you are all right?"

"I'll be fine," she grimaced. "I just have to learn to be more careful." _And watch my mouth around Owen,_ she added silently in her head. In fact, at this point, she doubted if her fiancé even loved her anymore. At first, she had only seen the sweet side of Owen. Then the shouting began. Only recently, had it escalated into physical behavior. Something had to be bothering her fiancé, but she was scared of him now. She wanted to get him help, but she didn't know how to approach the idea. Owen would be furious if she even suggested a therapist or counseling. The thought had also entered her mind that maybe it was her causing all of the trouble and she really did deserve everything Owen dished out. The idea terrified her, and she pledged to be a better fiancé to Owen from here on out.

"Annie, are you all right?"

She blinked and realized Mitchell had been speaking to her while she was wool-gathering about Owen. "Oh, I'm sorry. Just thinking about everything I have to do when I get home. I'm not very good company today, I'm afraid."

Mitchell smiled, his dark eyes glittering as he ran a hand through his messy curls. "That's okay. You've had a rough day. How does your arm feel?"

"It aches a bit," she admitted. "I'll take something for it when I get home." Annie took a sip of tea and then looked up at Mitchell. "So, how long have you worked here at the hospital?" she asked, hoping to start a conversation that didn't revolve around her and her injuries.

"About two years now," Mitchell answered. "It pays the bills."

She nodded. "I'm sure you meet some interesting people here."

"Yes, yes, I do," he responded, his eyes catching hers and holding for a bit.

Annie felt a flush warm her cheeks and she glanced down to study her tea with her good eye. "They, uh, they have good tea," she stammered, suddenly feeling as if Mitchell could see through to her soul. Had he guessed that she really hadn't fallen down the stairs?

"Coffee's a bit strong," he told her, "but I guess it keeps the doctors and nurses going on their long shifts."

She smiled. "I'm sure you're right about that."

Mitchell filled the time with idle chit-chat as Annie found herself growing anxious. She glanced at her watch. "Owen will be here soon. I'd better wait outside."

"Let me wait with you," Mitchell offered.

"NO!" Annie protested. "I mean, no thank you. I'll be fine. You need to get back to work. Thanks for the tea, Mitchell."

"You are very welcome, Annie. Be careful," he warned, his eyes skimming over her black eye and casted arm.

"I will," she smiled. "See you later." Annie offered a quick wave and then hurried down the hall toward the main entrance.

Mitchell couldn't get her off of his mind for the rest of his shift. When he arrived home, he found George and Nina finishing dinner at the kitchen table. He quickly fixed himself a plate and joined them, chewing silently.

George exchanged looks with his girlfriend. "Mitchell," he finally asked, "is something wrong?"

"What? Oh, no," Mitchell replied with a shake of his head. "Just thinking."

"Pretty serious thinking," Nina pointed out.

Mitchell stabbed at a chunk of meat with his fork and looked up at his friends. "It's a woman I met at the hospital; her name is Annie. I think her fiancé might be abusing her."

"Mitchell, you can't get involved," George began.

"What makes you think he's hurting her?" Nina asked quietly.

Mitchell sighed. "I met her last week, and her prick of a fiancé was a douche bag. He was being seen for a stomach virus. Then, today, she was the patient. She said she fell down the stairs, but somehow I just don't believe her."

"Mitchell, you don't really know her that well," Nina soothed. "Maybe she really did fall down the stairs."

"Maybe," Mitchell admitted as his appetite suddenly faded. He dumped the rest of his food in the trash and placed his plate in the sink. "I'm going to go lay down. It's been a long day."

He took the stairs two at a time and entered his room, flopping down fully clothed on his bed. Maybe Nina was right. Maybe Annie really was just clumsy. The more he tried to convince himself that the incident was something innocent like a fall, the more he became convinced that Annie was in trouble.

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Being Human. It belongs to Toby Whithouse.

Author's Note: This story is AU. Mitchell is not a vampire. George is not a werewolf. Annie is very much alive. I'm new to the fandom, so I'm a bit nervous about posting this. I know there are some fandoms where AUs are not readily accepted.

The Land of the Living

_He took the stairs two at a time and entered his room, flopping down fully clothed on his bed. Maybe Nina was right. Maybe Annie really was just clumsy. The more he tried to convince himself that the incident was something innocent like a fall, the more he became convinced that Annie was in trouble._

Chapter 2

A week passed by and then half of another. Mitchell still found himself thinking of Annie. He told himself he was being silly. She was just a woman he met briefly in the hospital, someone he had tried to help. That was all. End of story. Period.

Except she wasn't. Mitchell found himself longing to see her again. Annie was engaged, he knew, but something drew him to her like a moth to a flame.

In fact, it was Annie he was thinking of as he walked through the open air market looking for the vegetables George has asked him to pick up for supper. Mitchell had to admit that he wasn't very good at this grocery shopping thing, but since he didn't cook well it was the least he could do to help. He had to be at work in a few hours, but there would be a plate waiting for him in the refrigerator when he got home.

He stopped at a stall and began to peruse the green beans. A silvery laugh and a soft voice from the stall next to him caught his attention. He looked up and immediately his face stretched in a wide smile. "Annie."

She looked up at the sound her name. Mitchell was relieved to see that her black eye had nearly faded. "Mitchell," she smiled, nodding once more at the woman she had been speaking to before approaching him. "What are you doing here?"

He grinned. "I know I don't exactly look the type to be shopping at an open air market, but a man has to eat."

Annie laughed and glanced down at his hands. "You haven't bought anything yet."

"Erm, I don't really know what I'm doing. George and Nina, my roommates, sent me with a list." Mitchell felt his cheeks warm. He was usually cocky with the ladies, sure of his looks and able to easily flirt. It was different with Annie. He felt as if she could see right through him. His stomach trembled with nerves.

"Well, come on then," Annie grinned, poking at him with her finger. "Hand over the list if you want me to help you shop."

"Really?" Mitchell asked excitedly. "Annie, that'd be wonderful." The Irish lilt to his voice made her grin widen. He took a moment to peruse the young woman in front of him. With her make-up on, you could barely notice her black eye. Her hair hung in dark ringlets around her face and she wore dark jeans with a red v-neck sweater. She was gorgeous. He swallowed hard when he met her eyes and found her staring at him with her smile twitching on her lips.

"Do you have the list?" she asked again, hand outstretched before her.

"Oh, right, the list," Mitchell stammered; Annie's silvery laugh was doing funny things to his insides. _She's engaged_, he kept repeating to himself.

"How's your arm?" Mitchell found himself asking as Annie perused the list with a practiced eye.

"It doesn't ache quite as much, but it itches like a bugger," she grouched. "Come on. There was a stall back this way that had a lot of the things you need."

Mitchell followed her. He mentally chastised himself when he realized he was admiring the way her dark blue jeans hugged her hips just so. He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Do you come here often?"

Annie smiled at him over her shoulder. "Every week," she replied. "Here we are. Now, let me show you how to pick through vegetables. It's simple, really."

Mitchell paid close attention as she showed him how to tell if the beans were too old or the asparagus too mushy. "Thank you for your help with this, Annie. I would have been a miserable failure and George and Nina would have been furious with me."

"What are friends for?" she asked jauntily as they walked away from the stall, Mitchell now carrying two bags of vegetables.

"Care for a mug of tea? It's my treat since you helped me shop," Mitchell offered.

Annie smiled. "Sure, that sounds great, Mitchell." She allowed him to take her bag and carry it for her. Owen had never done gentlemanly things like that, at least not once she'd moved in with him. It was nice.

They found a small tearoom around the corner and settled at an outside table. Mitchell stowed their bags beneath it so they'd be out of the way.

"So," Annie asked with a mischievous smile curving her lips, "is there a significant other in your life?"

Mitchell nearly sputtered over his tea. "What?"

She shrugged. "I was just thinking, maybe I could set you up with one of my friends."

Mitchell's stomach turned sour at the thought. _She's engaged, _he reminded himself once again. He forced a smile. "Sure, yeah, I'm not seeing anyone right now. I'm not great in the romance department though."

"I find that hard to believe," Annie laughed. "I'd imagine you're like catnip to women."

He shrugged. "No, well, I seem to be able to attract them right off, but then I close myself off and the relationship never lasts long. Too afraid of getting hurt, I guess," he admitted as he felt his cheeks warm.

"You're not like that with me," Annie pointed out quietly.

"No, not with you," he sighed, staring down into his tea. "You're different."

"Why?" she asked quietly as she moved her hand across the table to cover his with warm, soft fingers.

"I don't know," he told her, his mouth suddenly dry.

Annie pulled her hand back and took a sip of her steaming tea. "Well, then, maybe you will like one of my friends. I have someone in mind for you."

Mitchell forced himself to nod. He didn't want to hurt her feelings. "All right."

"Do you live close by?" she asked curiously. "I walk to the market each week, and sometimes my friends will walk with me." Annie didn't mention that she did not get to see her friends much anymore. Owen monopolized so much of her time.

"Yeah, just a few blocks over," Mitchell told her, running a hand through his curls nervously.

"Great!" Annie enthused. "Maybe we can meet for tea on market day next week and I can introduce you to Sara. Maybe say two o'clock?"

"Sure." Mitchell found himself agreeing although he really wanted to say no.

"Oy, Annie, what's going on here?" a voice bellowed by their table.

Both Mitchell and Annie jumped, Mitchell's tea spilling over into his lap. He cursed and looked up to find Owen, Annie's fiancé, staring down at her furiously.

"Owen!" she gasped. What are you doing here?"

"I came to walk my fiancé home from the market. Looks like it's a good thing I did," he growled.

"Owen, this isn't what you think," Annie protested, leaping to her feet. "I'm trying to set Mitchell up with Sara."

Mitchell frowned and stood, wincing when he looked down at his wet pants. "She really is trying to set me up with Sara," he informed Owen. The last thing he wanted to do was cause trouble for Annie. He still didn't trust her fiancé.

"We're going home," Owen growled, grasping Annie's broken arm and tugging her along with him.

"Wait, you forgot your vegetables!" Mitchell called, grabbing the bag from beneath the table and holding it out.

Annie took it with her free hand. "Thank you, Mitchell," she told him, her voice trembling slightly.

He watched as Owen nearly dragged her down the street, his heart plummeting. He was worried about her.

Annie's heart pounded in her chest as Owen pulled her along. "We weren't doing anything wrong, Owen," she tried to explain. "I just thought Mitchell would be perfect for Sara. She's always complaining about how lonely she is, and he's a nice guy."

"He cleans up vomit for a living, Annie. He's worthless, and I don't believe a word you are saying."

Annie tripped as he hauled her up the front steps. She fell and caught herself with her good arm, wincing as a sharp pain shot through her wrist. Her bag of vegetables tumbled to the porch, the veggies scattering across the painted floorboards.

"I knew I couldn't trust you," Owen spat before he turned and went into the house.

Annie blinked back tears. Her wrist ached painfully, and there was a dull throb in her shin where she'd whacked it on the edge of one of the steps. She hurt inside most of all because she realized Owen didn't trust her. He had immediately thought the worst of something very innocent. A sob hitched in her throat and then another. She picked up the vegetables slowly, her wrist protesting the movement. Then she shuffled inside and made her way to the kitchen. She could hear Owen banging things around angrily upstairs.

It was difficult slicing vegetables with two bad arms, and it took her quite a while, but she managed. Soon, Annie had meat frying and vegetables boiling. The kitchen smelled wonderful, and although she enjoyed cooking, tonight it failed to lift Annie's mood. Supper would soon be ready, so Annie set the table and poured the tea. It was time to get Owen. She dreaded going upstairs to face his anger.

Forcing herself to place one foot in front of the other, Annie climbed the stairs slowly. "Owen, dinner is ready," she called when she got to the top of the steps. She looked down in horror. The contents of her closet and dresser drawers were spread out across the hallway and bedroom floors. "Owen, what on earth are you doing?" she called, totally flummoxed.

"Looking for evidence," he growled as he grabbed her upper arms and slammed her so hard against the wall that her head bounced off of it painfully.

"Evidence of what? Owen, you're hurting me," she protested as she tried to squirm from his grasp.

"Evidence of your affair with that hospital porter," he snarled.

"Owen, I swear to you that I am not having an affair!" she retorted.

"I caught you red-handed today," he screamed, shaking her.

"You caught me having lunch with a friend that I'm trying to set up with another friend. Let go of me, or I'm calling the police," she finally spat at him as fear spiraled through her.

Owen spun her around, shaking her harder. "You're going to learn that no one cheats on me," he growled low in his throat, his warm breath blowing across her face.

"Just let me go, Owen," she pleaded.

He shook his head and shoved her backwards. Annie's arms pin-wheeled and she flailed for a grip, but there was nothing behind her. Instead, she tumbled backwards down the stairs, a scream on her lips. Her fall seemed endless, but finally she felt a sharp pain explode in her head and then she sunk into blackness.

Mitchell rolled his mop bucket down the hallway and stifled a yawn. This shift seemed endless and he'd only been here two hours. He had already cleaned up two puddles of urine, spilled coffee, and projectile vomit.

An ambulance pulled up outside of the emergency room and the double doors slammed open. A doctor and several nurses ran out to meet the gurney as it was wheeled in.

"Female. Early twenties. Severe head trauma," the paramedic explained.

Mitchell caught a glance of the patient's face and nearly tipped over his bucket of water. Annie! Mitchell's heart was pounding in his chest and his stomach burned with fear. He shoved the bucket to the side and ran beside the gurney, reaching for Annie's hand. "Annie, Annie Love, can you hear me?"

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Being Human. It belongs to Toby Whithouse.

The Land of the Living

_Mitchell caught a glance of the patient's face and nearly tipped over his bucket of water. Annie! Mitchell's heart was pounding in his chest and his stomach burned with fear. He shoved the bucket to the side and ran beside the gurney, reaching for Annie's hand. "Annie, Annie Love, can you hear me?"_

Chapter 3

"Get back! Let us work!" the doctor bellowed.

Mitchell gave her hand a final squeeze and backed up, but did not leave the trauma room. Instead, he watched with a pounding heart as the doctor checked Annie's pupils and ordered an MRI immediately. He backed against the wall as the gurney was wheeled by on the way upstairs where her brain would be scanned.

One of the nurses stayed behind to clean up and prepare the room. Mitchell stepped out into the hallway and looked around, but could find no sign of Owen. He stuck his head back into the room. "Excuse me, uh…." He got a good look at the nurse's I.D. badge. "Excuse me, Becky, but do you happen to know where Ms. Sawyer's fiancé is?"

The nurse eyed him for a moment. "You're a porter around here, aren't you?" she asked, reaching up to tidy her pale blonde hair.

"That's me," he answered her impatiently. "Do you know where Ms. Sawyer's fiancé is?" Mitchell repeated.

Becky seemed a bit miffed that he was paying no attention to her. She turned her back to him. "Paramedic said the young man that was with her would be along in a bit. He was notifying her family."

Mitchell frowned. How could Owen leave Annie's side when she was seriously injured? "Thank," he mumbled absently and hurried to the elevators. He wanted to be waiting for Annie when her MRI was complete.

Owen still hadn't arrived by the time Annie was settled in a room and hooked up to an I.V. and monitors. Mitchell had listened in carefully to the doctor's conversations with the nurses even as he tried to look busy cleaning the room. From what he could gather, Annie's brain was swelling. She was being watched carefully in case it got to the point where surgery was needed to release the pressure. Mitchell's stomach flipped nervously at the thought.

He wandered down the hall and pretended to be busy until the doctor and nurses left Annie alone. Then he crept back into her room and took her cool, slim hand in his own warm, larger one. "I will be back to check on you after my shift, Annie," he murmured quietly as he bent to press a kiss to her forehead. "You just hang in there; you are going to be fine." _She had to be fine._

Mitchell was distracted as he finished the rest of his shift. Annie consumed his thoughts as he moved patients in wheelchairs, hauled linens up several floors in the elevator, and cleaned up vomit. When work was finally over, he hurried to his locker to change and then took the elevator to Annie's floor.

His nerves were on end as he approached her room; he wasn't sure what he would find. Had the swelling worsened? Had Owen arrived? His breath left him in a whoosh when he realized she was alone. He entered the room quietly and moved the room's lone chair over by the bed before taking Annie's hand in his.

"I told you I'd be back when my shift was over," he smiled. "Didn't seem like it would ever end; there was loads of vomit tonight, just like the night we met." Mitchell watched Annie's face carefully, but there was no sign that she heard him.

Worry unfurled in his mind. What if Annie was never the same after this? Head injuries could change someone's life in the blink of an eye. His worry turned into rage. Mitchell was nearly positive that Annie hadn't tripped and fallen down those stairs.

"What are you doing here?" a voice snarled from the doorway.

Mitchell jumped, but didn't release Annie's hand or rise from his seat. He looked up to see Owen glowering at him furiously from the doorway with a cup of gourmet coffee in his hand. His fiancé had a life-threatening head injury, and the man had stopped for coffee on the way to the hospital.

"I didn't want Annie to be alone," Mitchell explained, gently squeezing her cold hand in his warm fingers. "She hasn't opened her eyes yet, but I don't want her to be frightened when she does," he told Owen.

"Well, I'm here now, so you can leave," Owen spat as he entered the room with fury radiating from every pore.

"Were you able to get in touch with her parents?" Mitchell asked, not moving from his position in the chair by Annie's side.

Owen didn't answer him. "I said get out," he spat. "Get out now, or I'll have you thrown out. Annie doesn't need you here."

"Are you sure?" Mitchell asked, standing to his full height and raising an eyebrow. "Seems she has been falling down and getting hurt a lot lately." He pinned Owen with a knowing glare.

"How dare you accuse me of hurting her?" Owen's coffee sloshed everywhere as he lunged at Mitchell and slammed him against the wooden cabinet in the corner.

"Annie, love!" her mother cried as she entered the room. "Oh, Owen, how is she?" the distraught woman asked as she hurried to her daughter's side, not paying any attention to Mitchell or Owen.

Owen let go of Mitchell and dragged his attention to Annie's mother. Mitchell slipped from the room determined to keep an eye on Annie throughout her stay in the hospital. His hands were trembling from adrenaline and anger. That man had a temper, and the thought of Annie being at the receiving end of it made him sick.

When he arrived for his next shift, Mitchell went directly to Annie's room. Her parents were in the room along with Owen, so he didn't go in. They were hovering around the bed, and he was unable to catch a glimpse of his injured friend. Worry assaulted him. What if the swelling was worse? Mitchell promised himself that he would check on her tonight after his shift. Visiting hours were over by then, and she would be alone.

Never had the hours moved as slowly as they did that night. Mitchell chauffeured patients from one place to another. One old woman accused him of stealing her false teeth and screamed at the top of her lungs until the nurse sedated her. A little girl tried to bite him as he helped lift her into a wheelchair. All in all, it had been a miserable evening that was finally drawing to a close.

Mitchell hurried to his locker and changed into a pair of black jeans and a red t-shirt and then grabbed a book from the top shelf before he took the elevator upstairs to see Annie. He found her alone in a quiet, dim room with the television turned off. She was shivering with her sheet pulled up to her chin. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes, but she was awake and that was what mattered right now.

"Annie," he murmured as he poked his head around the frame of the open door with a huge grin on his face. "Are you feeling up to a visitor?"

"Mitchell," she murmured weakly, a small smile curving her lips, "please come in."

"Are you all right?" he asked in concern as he placed a hand on her brow to check for a fever. "You're shivering."

"I'm just cold," she answered. "Hospitals are always freezing."

"Yeah, they are," Mitchell admitted. He moved to the large wooden cabinet in the corner and produced a blanket which he carefully spread over her, tucking her in snuggly.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"So," Mitchell began as he sat in the chair next to her bed, "how are you feeling?"

Annie frowned. "I have the most awful headache."

"You have a pretty severe head injury," he replied. "I'm sure you will have a headache for a while."

"My doctor said the swelling is beginning to go down," Annie informed him, "but I still get dizzy if I sit up and my vision is blurry."

Mitchell was alarmed. "But you're going to be all right? That will go away?"

"The doctor said it will all so away as the swelling decreases," she explained, "but it makes it hard to read or watch television. I am so bored."

"Well, it just so happens that I brought a book with me. I wasn't sure if you were awake or not. I was going to read out loud to you if you were unconscious." Mitchell held up the book he'd brought with him, a murder mystery he'd found on George's bookshelf. Happiness rose inside of him as a smile bloomed on Annie's lips.

"I've always loved having someone read to me," she admitted.

"Then close your eyes and relax while you listen," Mitchell told her as he opened up the book to chapter one.

"'Kay," Annie smiled, doing as he'd instructed. The blanket was helping to warm her up, and her shivering finally stopped. She focused on the rich sound of Mitchell's voice, his Irish accent making the words sound almost musical. Soon, she felt warm and drowsy. She yawned, and drifted off to sleep.

It took Mitchell a few pages to realize Annie was asleep. He closed the book after taking note of the page number and smiled. "Sleep well, Annie," he murmured as he tucked the blanket beneath her chin carefully.

Mitchell slipped out of the room with a smile on his lips, glad she was feeling better. He tried not to think of the fact that soon she would be going home with Owen once again.

He returned again the next night once visiting hours were over to find Annie sniffling into a tissue and wiping her eyes. "What's wrong, Annie?" he asked.

"Nothing, I'm fine," she half-sobbed.

"You don't sound fine," he told her as he handed her another tissue from the box on the bedside table.

"My mum and I had a bit of a falling out before she left." Annie mopped at her eyes and then moaned. "Crying makes my head throb even worse."

Mitchell sank into the chair beside the bed and wondered just how much he should ask Annie about the argument. It wasn't as if they knew each other very well; he didn't want to seem as if he was prying. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked, moving the box of tissues so that she was able to reach it better.

"My mum accused Owen of hurting me," Annie choked out.

Mitchell bit his tongue before he could say anything that would upset her even more. "Oh?" he managed. "Why would she think that?"

Annie heaved a quivering sigh. "Well, I can't remember what happened. I think I must have fallen down the stairs. Owen said he found me at the bottom. Mum said I was never this clumsy before, but the stairs in our house are pretty steep."

"Maybe you will remember what happened as the swelling continues to go down," Mitchell soothed. "Your mum must be very worried about you."

"She is," Annie sighed. "My sister and I are my parents' world. I don't know what they'd do if anything ever happened to one of us."

Mitchell thought of his own parents. They had been gone such a long time, but there were moments when his grief floated to the surface with a fresh stab of pain.

"What about your family?" Annie asked as she studied his face with a look of concern.

He sighed. "My parents have been gone since I was seven years old. They were killed in a car accident. The only other family I had was my Great Aunt Tillie. She didn't really want me, but there was no one else."

"I'm sorry, Mitchell," Annie sighed. "Here I am fussing about my mum when you lost yours."

He reached out to pat her hand gently. "It's quite all right, Annie," he soothed. "It was a long time ago."

"That doesn't mean it hurts any less when you lose someone you love, Mitchell," she smiled, her eyes watery.

Mitchell found himself swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat. "I don't remember too much about them really, except that they loved me. My mum used to sing me lullabies and my dad would show me exciting bits in his newspaper and let me sit in his lap."

"And your aunt?" Annie asked carefully, glad to have a distraction from her own problems at the moment.

Mitchell sighed. "I was a burden to Aunt Tillie, and she never let me forget it. Nothing I did was ever good enough." He shrugged and gave Annie a small smile. "I brought the book again. I thought maybe I could read a bit more."

Annie could tell that Mitchell didn't really want to talk about his aunt by the way his voice tightened and his shoulders tensed, so she smiled. "I fell asleep on you last time, didn't I?"

"That's okay. We'll just go back a few pages," he told her.

This time he made it through a chapter and a half with Annie still awake. He put the marker in the book and closed it.

She looked up at him with a frown. "Did we finish the chapter?"

He shook his head. "No, there were still a few more pages. We can read those tomorrow."

"Why did you stop?" Annie asked. She had been enjoying the sound of his voice and the distraction from her worrisome thoughts.

"I..I…uh…." He stumbled as if trying to find the right words.

"Mitchell, what is it?" she asked with concern.

"Annie, do you know when they are releasing you from the hospital?" he asked as his fingers absently played with the folded corner of the book's front cover.

"No," she answered, "but my vision is better. I'm hoping that means I can go home soon."

"To Owen?" he asked quietly.

"Not you, too," Annie sighed. "Look, Owen may have a temper, but he did not hurt me. I can't believe you. I hardly know you, and you don't really know Owen at all. How dare you accuse him of something?"

Mitchell's dark eyes were troubled. "I'm just worried about you, Annie."

"Well, I'll be fine. I think it's time for you to leave." Her voice had an edge to it that Mitchell had never heard before.

He stood and brushed imaginary lint off of his red t-shirt before moving to the door, regret bubbling up inside of him. "Goodnight, Annie. Sleep well."

She had already pulled the covers up to her chin and turned on her side with her back to the door.

Mitchell bit back a sigh and left.

To Be Continued…


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Being Human. It belongs to Toby Whithouse.

The Land of the Living

"_Well, I'll be fine. I think it's time for you to leave." Her voice had an edge to it that Mitchell had never heard before._

_He stood and brushed imaginary lint off of his red t-shirt before moving to the door, regret bubbling up inside of him. "Goodnight, Annie. Sleep well." _

_She had already pulled the covers up to her chin and turned on her side with her back to the door._

_Mitchell bit back a sigh and left._

Chapter 4

Mitchell tossed and turned that night, unable to sleep. He couldn't get Annie out of his mind. She would be going home soon, back to Owen. He stared up at the ceiling in the darkness and wiggled his toes absently beneath the sheets. Maybe he could try talking to Annie one last time before she went home. Whether she wanted to hear it or not, he was only doing it because he cared about her and didn't want her hurt. Certainly, she could understand that.

Mitchell rolled over on his side and hoped that sleep would come, but he could not settle. He shifted onto his back and then his other side before he groaned in frustration and sat up, switching on the lamp on the bedside table.

He ran a hand over his face and through his brunette curls before reaching for his iPod and tucking the ear buds into his ears. He tapped out the beat of the music with his fingers on the mattress next to him and tried to lose himself in his favorite songs.

Mitchell must have drifted off at some point, but he woke to George shaking his shoulder.

"Wake up, Mitchell," the sandy-haired man grunted. "I knocked on the door, but you didn't hear me. Don't you have a shift this morning?"

Mitchell blinked sleepily and tugged the ear buds out of his ears. "Wha-what time is it?" he asked groggily, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Half past seven," George replied.

"Thanks, George!" Mitchell scrambled to get out of bed. He was going to be late for work. Dropping his iPod amongst the sheets, he struggled into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before grabbing his black leather jacket and taking the steps two at a time.

He made it to work with two minutes to spare. He quickly changed into his scrubs and hurried upstairs. There was no time to check on Annie now; he would have to visit her after his shift.

She was on his mind all night; he couldn't stop thinking of her. He wheeled several patients from the emergency room down the hall for x-rays. He carried fresh linens between floors, and then scrubbed up a coffee spill in one of the waiting rooms. It was a busy shift, and he never even got to take a break for a cup of coffee.

By the time he made it to Annie's room, he was exhausted, but still determined to speak with her. Mitchell was a bit wary; he knew Annie had not been happy with him yesterday. He poked his head around the door frame and hoped Owen was still at work. Getting Owen to leave the room so he could speak with Annie would be downright impossible.

The bed was empty. Mitchell stepped into the doorway and groaned. She was gone; Annie had already been discharged. He was too late.

"Hey, Mitchell," one of the nurses called as she walked by.

He recognized her. "Lisa, when did Ms. Sawyer leave?"

Lisa turned and thought for a moment. "Oh, about two hours ago. Her fiancé picked her up. He seems like such a sweet man, doting all over her and such."

"More like feeling guilty for hurting her," Mitchell grumbled under his breath.

"What's that?" Lisa asked.

"Oh, nothing," Mitchell responded, cursing himself for oversleeping this morning.

He was in a foul mood by the time he slammed the door of the pink house he shared with George and Nina.

"What's up?" George asked as Mitchell entered the kitchen.

The smell of frying meat assaulted Mitchell and made him feel nauseous. He was worried about Annie. He knew it was only a matter of time before Owen hurt her again; he was certain that the man was abusing her.

"George, can you check the meat?" Nina asked from her place by the sink. "It needs to be turned."

"Sure," George replied as he moved to the stove and flipped their dinner over in the pan so it didn't burn. "You okay, Mitchell?" he asked as he stared at his friend.

Mitchell sank into a chair at the kitchen table. "Annie was discharged from the hospital today," he admitted, resting his head in his hands. A headache was throbbing behind his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose with a grunt.

"That's good, isn't it?" Nina asked in confusion as she carried a stack of plates and silverware to the table.

George frowned as he studied Mitchell's face. "Do you still think her fiancé is hurting her?" he asked with concern.

"Oh, yeah," Mitchell readily admitted. "She could have died this time. What will it be next time and how long will she continue to make excuses for him?" He suddenly found anger bubbling up within him and he bit his bottom lip.

Nina sighed. "We don't have any proof, Mitchell," she pointed out. "Maybe Annie really is a klutz."

He shook his head. "No one who moves as gracefully as Annie does is such a klutz," he pointed out. "Besides, she doesn't even remember what happened. And don't forget, I've met her fiancé. He's a jerk!"

Nina just shrugged. "Maybe he thought you were encroaching on his territory."

"Nina, I didn't even know Annie then! I was just doing my job and the guy insulted me and embarrassed her."

"Look," George cut in as he tried to diffuse the tension that was building in the kitchen, "didn't you say Annie and her fiancé live close by?" He waited until Mitchell nodded. "Then maybe you will see her around and be able to keep tabs on her."

Mitchell threw his hands up in exasperation. "How do I do that without looking like I'm stalking her?"

"Well, didn't you see her at the market once before?" George asked.

Nina smiled. "Well, I do need you to pick up a few things at the market tomorrow if you don't mind. Maybe you will see Annie there."

Mitchell leaned back in his chair, frustration threatening to choke him. "Maybe," he sighed. Seeing her at the market wasn't really going to solve any problems, although perhaps it would assure him that she was at least still alive and breathing.

The next morning, Mitchell dressed in a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt before tugging on his leather jacket and picking up the string back Nina had left hanging on a kitchen chair. He grabbed the shopping list off the table and stuffed it into his pocket. His mind was not really on the shopping, but Nina would have his head if he didn't return with the vegetables she needed for dinner.

Remembering his last trip to the market vendors with Annie, Mitchell carefully picked over the green beans Nina had requested until he had enough. He paid for them and moved on to the next stall, all the while casting his eyes around for a glimpse of Annie. So far, he had not seen her. Perhaps her head was still bothering her and she had stayed home today. He hoped she was getting the rest she needed.

Mitchell had nearly finished his shopping when he turned and his breath caught in his throat. There, at the stall behind him, was Annie. She looked pale and withdrawn. Owen stood next to her, his hand clenching her arm.

Annie looked up and her eyes widened when she caught sight of Mitchell. He grinned and waved, but she glanced over at Owen and pretended not to see him.

It all made sense of course, Mitchell thought. Annie knew Owen would be angered if he saw her speak to him He didn't want to be the cause of Owen hurting her once again. Swallowing his anger and worry, Mitchell turned his back on Annie and finished purchasing Nina's requested vegetables. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life.

Mitchell did his best to put Annie out of his mind after that. He knew that even his friendship could cause her problems. Worry still plagued him, especially at night when the house was dark and quiet. He had trouble sleeping and when he did sleep it was riddled with nightmares of Annie tumbling down the stairs and cracking her head on the tiles at the bottom. He would wake covered in a sheen of sweat, breathing heavily, and there would be no more sleep for him that night.

If anyone had asked Mitchell why this woman had embedded herself in his heart so deeply, he wasn't sure that he'd be able to explain it. He only knew that he cared for Annie more than he'd ever cared for any woman. The very thought scared the living daylights out of him.

The days turned into a week and then a month. Mitchell had managed to avoid any more trips to the market, but Annie still invaded his thoughts. Every night at work his eyes scanned the patients in the emergency room, looking for a caramel-skinned, curly-haired beauty with sad doe-brown eyes. Each night he was relieved when she was not there.

A month-Owen had been able to keep his word for a month, but now she was afraid. It had been Owen who had shoved her down the stairs; she hadn't tripped and fallen as he'd let her believe all this time. He'd screamed the truth at her tonight when he'd accused her of cheating on him. Then he'd slapped her in the face, twisted her wrist until she had cried out, and thrown her against the kitchen table. A sob caught in Annie's throat as she stumbled down the uneven sidewalk. Her cheek throbbed, her side ached, and she wondered if her wrist was sprained or broken. She didn't know where to go and she'd left the house without her phone or her wallet. Wiping away tears, she pulled herself together and sucked in a deep breath.

"Think, Annie," she told herself. She could not go to her parents. She didn't want to hear them say _I told you so_. Her friends had long since abandoned her; Owen had made sure to monopolize her time. Where could she go?

Mitchell. She could to go Mitchell. Would he want to see her? He had tried to tell her about Owen, but she hadn't wanted to listen. Annie forced her feet to carry her forward. She would go to the hospital. If Mitchell wouldn't help her, then she would use the phone there to call her parents as a last resort.

It took over an hour for Annie to make her way to the hospital. She was shivering and her teeth were chattering. It was cold outside and she'd left her coat at home. A light misty rain began to fall as she neared the hospital. She wrapped her arms around herself and breathed a sigh of relief when the red lights over the emergency room door came into view.

She went to the reception desk and waited until the sandy-haired woman seated behind it looked up.

"May I help you?" the woman asked, frowning when she saw the bruise forming on Annie's cheekbone.

"Yes, please. I'm looking for someone. His name is Mitchell. He's a porter here. Please, it's really important that I find him," Annie pleaded as she tried hard to keep her voice from trembling.

The woman studied her for a moment. "Does he have a pretty face? Curly hair?"

Annie nodded as a shiver ran through her. She was so cold.

"His shift might be over, hon. He came in early today. I'll see if I can find him for you."

Annie watched as the woman picked up a phone and dialed a number. The woman spoke to someone and then dialed another number. Annie leaned against the desk as the ache in her ribs intensified. She needed to sit down.

The receptionist hung up the phone. "He's on his way here. Told him he was needed." She nodded toward the chairs in the waiting area. "Go have a seat over there. I'll send him your way when he comes down."

"Thank you," Annie managed through her chattering teeth. She moved slowly toward the chairs and lowered herself into the nearest one with a grunt of pain. Holding her wrist cradled against her, she closed her eyes for just a moment. She was so tired. It wouldn't hurt to rest for a minute.

"Annie," a voice called through her sleepy haze. "Annie, love, are you all right?"

A warm hand cupped her cheek bringing her to wakefulness. Annie opened her eyes and found Mitchell kneeling before her with concern for her stamped all over his face.

"Mitchell?" she croaked.

"Oh, Annie, you're soaking wet," he sighed. Then he froze as he caught a good look at her face. "What happened to your face, Annie? How did you get that bruise?" Mitchell fought to keep his anger under control.

"Owen," Annie admitted softly as she focused her gaze on his lap. "You were right about him, Mitchell."

Mitchell stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of her chair, anger radiating off of him in waves. "I'll kill him," he hissed.

"Mitchell, please," Annie begged, "I didn't know where to go and I hurt. Please, can I-?"

He cut her off by kneeling in front of her once again and taking her cold hands in his larger, warmer ones, watching as she flinched. "I'm so sorry, Annie. I'm being a jerk. Are you okay? Where did he hurt you? Should I call the police?"

"My wrist," she managed, "and my side, but no police, Mitchell, please." She was nearly pleading with him now.

Mitchell tenderly brushed her dark curls from her face. "Okay, no police for now, but you need to be seen by a doctor. I'll go get the paperwork for you to fill out, but first I'm finding a blanket and some coffee."

Annie nodded. "Thank you, Mitchell."

He gave her a small smile before he scurried through the double doors that led into the ER. He returned a few minutes later and wrapped a warm blanket around her shoulders before handing her a cup of coffee. "Here you go, Annie. Let me get your paperwork from the desk."

It took a while to get her registered, but all of her information was in the system from her last emergency room visit. Mitchell hurried to his locker and changed before rushing back upstairs to sit with Annie as she waited for x-rays.

She sat stiffly on a gurney in a cubicle surrounded by a light blue curtain and pulled the pale green hospital gown tightly around her. Her teeth still chattered, whether from cold or shock Mitchell wasn't sure.

He settled in a chair beside her and slouched down trying to get comfortable.

Suddenly her eyes widened as she had a new thought. "Mitchell, what if Owen comes here?"

He sat up and reached for her good hand, squeezing it gently. "He will not touch you," he assured her. "I won't let him."

Annie chewed her lower lip nervously and her eyes scanned the people moving around the room. "I hate this. I hate feeling vulnerable and scared," she spat, looking up at the ceiling as she tried to blink the tears from her eyes.

Mitchell stood, but never let go of her hand. He used his free hand to thumb the tears from her face tenderly. "We all feel like that at some time or another. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

She sniffled. "Thanks," she nearly whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you before."

He shrugged. "I think you needed to discover what Owen was like for yourself, Annie," he replied.

"Maybe you're right," she told him. "Oh, what am I going to do?" Annie tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling again, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

Mitchell cupped her face gently. "Hey, it's going to be okay. Just take it one step at a time, all right? Maybe come stay at my place tonight with me, George, and Nina. We have a spare room," he explained. "They won't mind a houseguest. Then tomorrow when you're thinking more clearly you can plan your next step."

Annie wrapped her fingers around his. "Are you sure it's all right?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm positive," he smiled, just as a porter arrived to take her for x-rays

To Be Continued…


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Being Human. It belongs to Toby Whithouse.

The Land of the Living

_Mitchell cupped her face gently. "Hey, it's going to be okay. Just take it one step at a time, all right? Maybe come stay at my place tonight with me, George, and Nina. We have a spare room," he explained. "They won't mind a houseguest. Then tomorrow when you're thinking more clearly you can plan your next step."_

_Annie wrapped her fingers around his. "Are you sure it's all right?" she asked worriedly._

"_I'm positive," he smiled, just as a porter arrived to take her for x-rays._

Chapter 5

Thankfully, Annie's wrist was not broken, but it was badly sprained. The doctor wrapped it carefully and told her to keep it elevated to reduce the swelling. Her ribs were bruised where Owen had thrown her against the table. She was going to be very sore over the next few days.

"Are you sure it is okay if I go home with you?" Annie asked Mitchell anxiously as the nurse handed her the discharge paperwork.

"Sure!" he enthused, gently taking hold of her good arm and helping her off the bed. "Nina and George won't mind a bit. I can't wait for you to meet them. They've heard all about you." He smiled kindly at her. "You will like them; I promise."

Annie nodded nervously, her eyes still darting around the room for any sign of Owen.

"Here," Mitchell offered, handing her his black sweatshirt. "It's cold outside tonight and you don't have your jacket."

She smiled and allowed him to help her slide her injured arm into the sleeve. "Thank you," she murmured. The jacket smelled like him; the thought was both comforting and disturbing at the same time. When had thoughts of Mitchell started bringing her comfort? Annie pushed the idea to the back of her mind and wrapped her good arm tightly around herself.

Mitchell led her outside to his car and held the passenger side door open for her. He helped her with her seatbelt since it was difficult for her to latch it one-handed. Then he jogged around the car to the driver's side before climbing in and starting the engine.

Annie chewed her lower lip nervously. "I hope Owen doesn't cause any trouble for you because of me."

"Annie, stop worrying," Mitchell told her, glancing her way as he stopped at a traffic light. "I can handle Owen." Anger flared in his dark eyes. "He is a sack of crap for hurting you; can't he see the amazing woman that is right in front of his face?"

Annie's cheeks flamed at Mitchell's words and she was glad it was dark so that he couldn't see her face. "Thank you," she murmured, "for helping me at the hospital and for….just….everything," she stammered. "I wasn't sure if you would help me, not after I was upset with you before."

She heard him sigh in the darkness. "Annie, I'm your friend. I wouldn't be a very good friend if I didn't point out that I was worried about you and for you. And for the record, I haven't been upset with you; I've just been worried."

She placed a hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for worrying about me. It's good to know that I have a friend who will have my back in all of this."

He smiled. "I will, Annie. You don't have to worry about that." They drove the rest of the way in silence until Mitchell parked the car in front of the pink house. "This is the place," he told her. "Stay put; I'll open your door." Once again, he jogged around the car and tugged her door open, offering her a hand to help her out of the car.

"The guest room isn't amazing," Mitchell apologized, "but it has a comfy bed and a big chair to curl up in and read."

Annie smiled. "It will be fine," she assured him.

She followed him to the front door and waited as he fumbled with his key in the lock. Finally, he pushed the door open and stepped back to allow her to enter. "Come on in," he invited with a smile.

Annie walked into a living room decorated with mismatched furniture. It looked comfortable and homey and a smile curved her lips. "This is nice, Mitchell," she told him honestly. "Looks like a great place."

"Thanks," he replied as footsteps padded in the kitchen. There was a clatter of pans and a curse. "That will be George," Mitchell told her. "Come on; I'll introduce you." He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back and led her to the kitchen.

George was searching for something in one of the bottom cabinets, a plethora of pans and bowls scattered around him on the floor.

"George," Mitchell called, "we have company."

The sandy-haired young man jumped as Mitchell startled him and managed to hit his head on the cabinet. He muttered another curse before spilling backwards onto the floor. Looking up, he found Mitchell smirking at him in amusement while the curly-haired beauty next to him wore a concerned expression.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked.

George rubbed his head and rose to his feet. "Sure, sure, I'm fine, just fine," he stammered, a bit embarrassed.

"George, this is Annie," Mitchell explained, his hand never leaving the small of her back.

Annie found his touch comforting as she extended her good hand to George. "It's nice to meet you. Mitchell seems to have found a good friend in you," she smiled.

George shook her hand, his gaze darting up to Mitchell and then back to Annie. "Mitchell has told us a lot about you," he told her. "It's a pleasure."

"Annie is going to be staying with us tonight," Mitchell explained to his friend.

George's eyebrows rose in a questioning look. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Mitchell nodded. "Come on, Annie; I'll show you to your room." He turned to exit the kitchen. "I'll be back in a few, George."

His roommate nodded as he rubbed at the sore spot on the top of his head.

Mitchell showed Annie the bathroom and then opened the door to the guestroom. "Nina's just changed the sheets on the bed," he explained. "One of her sisters stayed her last week, so everything was freshened up after she left." He gestured to a bookshelf on the wall beneath the window. "George's bookshelves are overflowing, so he keeps some books in here. You're welcome to read any of them if they look interesting."

"Thanks, Mitchell," Annie told him a bit shyly as she played with the cuff of the sleeve of his sweatshirt she wore with her good hand.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Let me get you a washcloth and towel in case you want to clean up a bit." He disappeared into the hallway.

Annie heard a few doors open and close. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room and waited for him. Never had she thought she'd be in a situation such as this. Had she been naïve to think that nothing like this would ever happen to her? What was she going to do now? Her life was in shambles at the moment.

"Here ya are," Mitchell called out, entering the room and placing a towel and washcloth on the bed. "I've also found you something to sleep in. I would borrow something from Nina, but she's already in bed. She had to work a double," he explained, "so I brought you one of my t-shirts and a pair of my shorts George shrunk in the dryer." He placed those on the bed beside the towel and washcloth. "I guess I'll leave you to get settled," he told her, backing away slowly toward the door. "I'll go downstairs and see what George was looking for in the kitchen."

"Thank you again, Mitchell," Annie called out softly just before he shut the door. "I really don't know what I would have done without you tonight."

He poked his head back inside the room. "You are very welcome, Annie. Just call if you need me. Are you hungry? I could heat something up for you."

"Maybe a little," she admitted.

"How about a grilled cheese and some tomato soup?" Mitchell asked her. "That's great comfort food."

Annie nodded. "That would be nice, thank you," she smiled.

Mitchell retreated downstairs and left her to clean up. Annie took the towel and the washcloth into the bathroom and placed them next to the sink before shutting and locking the door with her good hand. Then she turned to the mirror and studied her reflection intently. An ugly, purple bruise had formed on her cheek. It ached painfully every time she spoke and would be impossible to cover with make-up. She sighed at her reflection as her haunted eyes gazed back at her. She barely recognized the woman in the mirror. What had happened to the enthusiastic, confident young woman who had graduated from college with honors? In her place stood someone who was frightened and self-conscious and afraid to stand up for herself.

Annie sighed once again and struggled out of Mitchell's sweatshirt and her other clothes. She washed her face with one hand, avoiding her injured cheek. Annie washed off the rest of her body as well as she could; a shower could wait until morning. Then she struggled into Mitchell's shorts and t-shirt. The shorts were a bit large, but she cinched the draw string at the waist and they stayed up just fine. The white t-shirt was a bit big on her, but it smelled like Mitchell. A smile curved her lips at the thought, but she winced when it made her cheek hurt. Besides, hadn't she been madly in love with Owen? What was she doing feeling comforted by the smell of Mitchell's clothes? Grunting in frustration, she cleaned up the mess she'd made in the bathroom and ventured downstairs to eat.

When Mitchell returned to the kitchen, George was waiting for him with a questioning look. "Why is Annie here?" he hissed quietly, hoping she wouldn't be able to hear him upstairs.

"Owen beat her up, George. Didn't you see the bruise on her cheek?" Mitchell replied, opening one of the upper cabinets and searching for a can of tomato soup. He found what he was looking for and placed the can on the counter before rooting around in a drawer for a can opener.

"But why is she _here_?" George asked pointedly.

"Because she doesn't have anywhere else to go, and she's scared," Mitchell pointed out, turning to lean back against the counter. "What's up, George? I thought you wouldn't mind if she stayed here. You and Nina know I've been concerned about her."

"I'm just worried. What if this Owen guy comes here looking for her?" George asked. "I have Nina to think about, you know."

"I'll deal with him," Mitchell promised. "I couldn't send her away, George. She needed help. She has a sprained wrist and bruised ribs all because of her jerk of a fiancé. She doesn't deserve that; no one does."

"No, you're right," George sighed, eyeing his friend's face carefully. "I do believe you're sweet on her, Mitchell."

"What?" Mitchell looked down at the floor as he anxiously ran a hand through his unruly mop of curls. "She's a friend."

"Yes, and she's all you've spoken about for the past few months," George pointed out. "Just don't get yourself in trouble with this fiancé of hers, Mitchell," he cautioned. "Be careful."

"I won't let him hurt her," Mitchell spat out through clenched teeth. Footsteps on the stairs quieted them both.

Annie entered the kitchen looking unsure of herself and wearing Mitchell's white t-shirt and black shorts.

Mitchell swallowed hard; she looked amazing in his clothes. "Feel a bit better?" he asked as he spurred himself into action and opened the can of soup before dumping it into the pot.

"Yes, thank you," she smiled shyly, "and thank you, George, for letting me stay here."

"It's no problem," the young man stammered shyly. "Would you like some tea?"

"Tea would be great," Annie replied. "I can make it; you don't need to wait on me if you tell me where things are."

"Make yourself at home, Annie," Mitchell told her as he found the cheese in the refrigerator.

George showed her the cabinet that held the tea and then found the kettle for her before he yawned sleepily. "I'm going to head up to bed," he told them. "I hope you get some rest tonight, Annie."

"Thank you, George," she smiled, "and goodnight."

It didn't take long for Annie to get settled at the table with a bowl of soup and a sandwich. Mitchell had made himself a sandwich as well, and he joined her.

Annie took a bite of her grilled cheese and her eyes widened. "Mitchell, this is great."

He grinned at her. "I may not be able to cook many things, but a grilled cheese is my specialty." A bit of cheese clung to her bottom lip. Mitchell fought hard to keep from reaching out and wiping it away with his thumb. Oh, to be able to lean over and kiss it away….. He pushed that thought out of his head; Annie was hurting right now; how could he even think such a thing?

"Um, you've got some cheese right there," he pointed to his own bottom lip and watched as Annie flushed adorably before wiping her mouth with her napkin. "You got it," he grinned at her as he polished off his own sandwich with a final bite.

They cleaned up the kitchen in a companionable silence before Mitchell double-checked the locks on the doors. He wanted to make sure Annie felt safe. "Ready for bed?" he asked her. "You've had a rough day."

"Yeah," she nodded. "I'll just take something for the pain and then head up to bed."

Mitchell fixed her a glass of water while she retrieved her medicine from the counter. She quickly gulped down two tablets and then followed Mitchell upstairs. They stopped outside of her bedroom door.

"Goodnight, Mitchell," Annie told him softly as she reached out with her good hand to squeeze his fingers. "Thank you for everything."

He tucked an errant curl behind her ear, his fingers grazing the smooth skin of her unblemished cheek. "Goodnight, Annie. Sleep well."

Mitchell retreated into his room across the hall and Annie stepped into the guestroom and closed the door behind her. She turned out the lights and crawled beneath the crisp, white sheets of Mitchell's guest bed. The old house was settling for the night. Its creaks and groans had Annie's nerves on end. She curled on her side facing the door and stared at it with wide eyes. What if Owen somehow figured out that she had run to Mitchell? What if someone at the hospital told him where Mitchell lived?

Annie's heart raced in her chest and her hands became clammy. She clenched her eyes shut and forced herself to take deep breaths. She began counting backwards from one hundred as she tried to calm herself. Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling. Snores drifted in through the closed door. She wasn't entirely sure, but she thought they belonged to George.

The minutes dragged by slowly. Annie began to identify the sounds produced by the old house. The groans it made just before the heat kicked on no longer set her heart beating rapidly in her chest. The hum of the refrigerator as it came to life didn't make a shiver run down her spine.

Finally, Annie felt her body begin to relax. Still, it was the wee hours of the morning before sleep claimed her.

"_It's him, isn't it?" Owen screamed in her face. "The porter from the hospital!"_

_Annie backed up against the wall. "I don't know what you're talking about, Owen," she pleaded. "Don't hurt me, please."_

_He slapped her across the face, and she raised a hand in stupefied shock to her stinging cheek. "You hit me," she breathed._

"_And I'll do more than that, you slut, if I ever think you've betrayed me," he seethed, his body pressing her into the wall. _

_Annie could feel the cool plaster behind her back. She tried to push Owen off of her, but the effort only made him angrier._

"_What do you think you're doing, you slut?" he bellowed, grabbing her by the forearms and swinging her around so her back was toward the steps._

"_Owen, you're hurting me," she protested feebly, her heart pounding in fright. _

_He shook her until her teeth nearly rattled in her head. "I'm sick of you being so forward with me," he growled. "You need to remember your place!"_

"_My place?" she questioned in confusion. "I thought my place was by your side, supporting you, and that's why I've been doing."_

"_No, you've been ogling that man from the hospital, Mitchell," he spat, shaking her once again._

"_Owen, please, you have it all wrong!"_

"_Do I?" he sneered. "I saw you together at the market. I'm not blind. You're a slut, Annie," he hissed into her face as he pushed her backwards._

_Arms pin-wheeling, Annie tumbled backwards into nothingness. She felt her body slam into the stairs and then excruciating pain as her head connected with the tiles at the bottom. Suddenly, she was floating above her body, looking down at herself. She was dead. She was a ghost. A terrified scream left her lips._

Annie sat straight up in bed, her hair clinging to her sweat-dampened face. Her heart was racing and her palms were sweaty. She wildly cast her gaze around the room before she remembered; she was at Mitchell's house in his guestroom. She was safe.

"Annie?" his muffled voice called from the other side of the door before he opened it just enough to poke his head inside the room. "Are you all right? I heard you scream."

"I'm fine," she panted, her tongue dry and her throat parched. "It was just a dream."

"Want to talk about it?" he asked as he pushed the door open the rest of the way.

Annie shook her head and then realized he couldn't see her in the darkness. She reached out with a trembling hand to turn on the bedside lamp. It took three attempts because her hand was shaking so badly.

"Aw, Annie," Mitchell sighed once he got a good look at her. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyes were wide. She was trembling all over as she held the blankets protectively against her chest. "May I come in?" he asked tentatively.

She nodded, relieved to have his presence to chase the remains of her nightmare away.

"Is everything all right?" George called from the hallway.

"Fine," Mitchell replied softly. "Go back to sleep."

"I'm sorry I woke everyone up," Annie sighed miserably as she mopped at the tears she hadn't realized were streaming down her face.

Mitchell approached the bed and sat down on the edge, making sure that Annie didn't feel crowded. "Want to talk about it?" he asked. "Sometimes that helps."

She sniffled and sucked in a deep breath. Nervously she began to roll the edges of the blanket between her fingers. "It was about Owen," she managed in a trembling voice. "Just another variation of the night he pushed me down the stairs, except in this dream I died." Annie glanced up at Mitchell and chewed her lower lip anxiously.

Slowly so as not to startle her, Mitchell reached out and tucked her damp hair out of her face. "That sounds like quite a nightmare."

She nodded. "I was up above my body looking down; it was so real," she explained.

"Come here," Mitchell murmured, gently pulling her into an embrace.

Annie found herself melting against him, her body sinking into the safety of his arms and the hard plane of his chest. His hands rubbed soothing circles on her back as he whispered gentle platitudes into her hair.

"He won't hurt you again, Annie, not as long as I'm here," he promised.

She pulled back so she could look into face and offered him a shaky smile. "Thank you, Mitchell. Would you - do you think you could stay in here tonight? I don't think I'll be able to sleep again, but –"

"Sure," he answered immediately. "I'll just sleep on top of the covers. Don't hesitate to wake me if you need me." His hand cupped her bruised cheek tenderly. "I despise him for hurting you; he had it all and he just threw it away."

Annie found herself leaning into his touch, mesmerized by the look in his dark eyes; she sighed when he finally pulled away.

Mitchell stood and moved to the other side of the bed where he stretched out on top of the sheets and blankets. "Goodnight, Annie."

"Goodnight, Mitchell," she replied as she turned off the light, this time with a much steadier hand. She snuggled into the blankets and listened as Mitchell's breathing evened out in slumber.

Annie must have drifted off to sleep at some point, for when she awakened, she had curled into Mitchell's side and rested her head on his shoulder. His face was turned toward her, his curls brushing her face. A smile curved her lips; he made her feel safe.

A sudden pounding on the front door downstairs had her sitting up in fright. "Annie, it's me!" Owen's voice echoed through the house.

Mitchell sat up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I will take care of him; you just stay up here."

Annie watched in terror as Mitchell stood up and headed downstairs to face Owen.

To Be Continued…


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Being Human. It belongs to Toby Whithouse.

The Land of the Living

_Annie must have drifted off to sleep at some point, for when she awakened, she had curled into Mitchell's side and rested her head on his shoulder. His face was turned toward her, his curls brushing her face. A smile curved her lips; he made her feel safe._

_A sudden pounding on the front door downstairs had her sitting up in fright. "Annie, it's me!" Owen's voice echoed through the house._

_Mitchell sat up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I will take care of him; you just stay up here."_

_Annie watched in terror as Mitchell stood up and headed downstairs to face Owen._

Chapter 6

Mitchell snatched open the front door only vaguely realizing that George and Nina were following him down the stairs.

"Where's Annie?" Owen screamed lividly at him, his face red with anger.

Mitchell snatched the other man by the collar and tugged him through the front door before slamming his back against the wall. "How dare you come here?" he seethed at Annie's abuser, spittle flying into Owen's face.

Owen planted both hands against Mitchell's chest and shoved hard. Mitchell stumbled backwards, but didn't let go of the front of Owen's shirt. Both men tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs and fists began to fly.

"George, do something!" Nina begged as she tugged anxiously on her boyfriend's arm.

Annie stood at the top of the stairwell with her heart pounding in her chest. She was terrified that Owen would unleash his fury on her if she ventured downstairs, but she couldn't let Mitchell and his friends deal with problems she'd brought their way. Sucking in a deep breath, Annie put one foot in front of the other and descended the stairs to find Mitchell and Owen rolling around in the floor. It was obvious Mitchell had the upper hand although he was sporting a bloody nose.

"Owen," she screamed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, "get out of here!" Her breath came in short pants and her blood was rushing in her ears.

Mitchell backed off and Owen lunged to his feet. Mitchell immediately placed himself between Annie and her fiancé. "Don't touch her," he growled, his lips curled in a sneer.

"I will be okay, Mitchell," Annie told him resolutely. She stood by his side, drawing strength from his presence. Glaring at Owen, she squared her shoulders and spoke firmly. "Get out of here. You are not welcome in this house."

"Annie, sweetheart, it's time to come home. We can work things out." Owen reached a hand out to her, but Mitchell slapped it away.

"Don't call me sweetheart, Owen; I'm not your sweetheart, not anymore. Nor am I your fiancé." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "If you really loved me, you wouldn't have thrown me down the stairs. Now, if you don't want me to call the police and press charges, you will get out of here."

"Annie," Owen said softly, "don't let these people turn you against me."

"You did that your own self, Owen," Annie threw at him. "Leave me alone."

Mitchell grabbed him by the arm as George opened the front door. "Get out of here and don't even so much as look at Annie ever again," Mitchell growled as he tossed Owen unceremoniously out of the front door while George slammed it closed behind him.

Mitchell swiped at his bloody nose, but only succeeded in making things worse as he turned around to check on Annie. Nina had an arm around the shaking young woman's shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," Annie cried as she wiped at her tears with a shaking hand. "I'm so sorry I brought my trouble here for you."

"We're just glad you're safe," Nina soothed. "George told me what was going on. I'm Nina, George's girlfriend."

Annie sniffled. "Thank you for letting me stay here," she told the blonde woman. Shooting a glance at Mitchell, she frowned. "I'm so sorry," she apologized once again.

Mitchell was still trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose. "It's all right, Annie," he assured her.

Annie pulled away from Nina and took Mitchell's arm. "Bathroom. Now," she commanded. "Let me take care of the bleeding." Gently she reached out a hand to touch his face. "Your left eye is swelling, too."

"Go on upstairs," Nina told them. "I'll bring up some ice."

"Thank you, Nina," Annie smiled shakily as she took Mitchell's arm and led him upstairs to the bathroom.

Mitchell sank down onto the closed toilet seat and bit back a groan. Owen had snuck in a few good hits. Annie wiped his face with a damp washcloth and then pulled away. "I think the bleeding has stopped."

She rinsed out the rag once more and wiped Mitchell's face gently. "There," she sighed. "That's much better." Kneeling before him, she cupped his cheek gently. "I'm so sorry. I wish I had never come to you; then this wouldn't have happened."

Mitchell placed his hand over hers where it rested on his cheek. "I'm glad you came to me, Annie. I need to know you're safe where that monster is involved."

Annie regarded his face carefully. "You are going to have quite the black eye for work later."

Mitchell waved away his concern. "They'll just think I was in a barroom brawl."

"Oh, Mitchell," Annie moaned. "I'm so sorry." Her throat clogged with tears.

"Annie," Mitchell smiled, "I was trying to be funny. Guess it wasn't the right time for a joke."

Annie stood and wiped at tears. Nina appeared in the doorway and handed her an icepack. "Thank you, Nina," she murmured as she turned and pressed it to Mitchell's swelling eye.

He moved his hand up to hold the icepack in place.

"Thank you for having me," Annie told both Nina and Mitchell as her hands played with the hem of Mitchell's t-shirt. "I need to go to Owen's place and get my things and then figure out where I'm going to go."

"You're not going there by yourself!" Mitchell protested.

"Certainly not!" Nina agreed. "I think we should all go with you."

Annie shook her head. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You didn't ask," Nina pointed out. "We offered, and you can just stay with us. We have that extra room. We can work out rent details later."

"I-uh-I don't have a job right now," Annie admitted. "Owen didn't want me to work. He wanted me home for when children started to come." Her fingers worked a bit more frantically at the hem.

"Well, you can stay for a few days at least," Nina consoled her. "And maybe it won't take you long to find a job."

"I will start looking today," Annie promised, jumping as Mitchell took one of her fidgeting hands in his free one that wasn't holding the ice pack.

"Annie, it's going to be all right," he promised. "Let me get a shower, and I'll go with you to get your things."

"I'll go tell George that we're all going," Nina told them before leaving the restroom to find her boyfriend.

Annie sighed. "I'm so sorry, Mitchell."

He let go of her hand to press a tender finger to her lips. "No more 'I'm sorries,'" he murmured. "Owen is the one who should be sorry for hurting you."

She nodded against his touch.

"Now, go on so I can shower. I'll be downstairs in a few minutes." He retreated into his bedroom to grab some clean clothes and then returned to the bathroom.

Annie stumbled down the hall into the guest room and shut the door behind her, sliding down against it and drawing her knees to her chest. A sob escaped her lips and then another and another until her whole body was shaking. Once the floodgates opened, she couldn't stop crying.

She didn't know how much time had passed until a knock sounded on the door behind her. "Annie, it's Mitchell. Can I come in?"

He pushed gently on the door when she didn't answer. Annie shuffled over on the carpet so the door would open.

"Aw, Annie," he murmured, kneeling down beside her and drawing her shaking body into his arms.

Annie buried her face in Mitchell's shoulder as her arms wound around him. She cried until she was exhausted and limp in his arms. He rocked her back and forth gently, making soothing noises and whispering comforting words.

"I think I got your shirt wet," Annie finally sniffled.

"It will dry," Mitchell told her as he brushed her damp hair back from her face. "Are you okay now?"

She nodded. "I think I just needed to get it out, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," he told her. "Why don't you go wash your face? Then we can go get your things and get it over with."

Annie nodded and allowed him to help her to her feet. She shuffled into the bathroom and Mitchell could soon hear the water running. He headed downstairs to make sure there was a pot of coffee for Annie when she was ready for it.

She appeared downstairs a short while later dressed in the clothes she had been wearing yesterday. Her face had been washed, but her eyes were still puffy from her tears. Mitchell pressed a mug of coffee into her hands and she murmured her thanks.

"I borrowed the neighbor's truck," George told her. "I thought you'd be able to bring more of your things that way."

Annie's smile lit her face. "Thank you, George. That is wonderful!"

He grinned back in return and felt Nina reach out to squeeze his hand.

It didn't take long for her to drink her coffee, and then the four of them climbed into the car and followed Annie's directions to the house she had shared with Owen. It was a nice place, white with black shutters. The small yard was freshly manicured and the front door sported a new coat of red paint.

"Great house," George commented.

Annie shrugged. "It was okay." She led them to the front door and attempted to insert her key into the lock. Her hand was trembling so badly that she kept missing the keyhole.

"Let me," Mitchell murmured, sliding his hand over hers and guiding it into the lock.

Annie turned the key and then pushed the door open. "Owen," she called as she willed her voice not to shake, "I'm here to get my things."

"Annie, love," his voice called from one of the other rooms. He hurried to the front door, his face bruised and battered from his fight with Mitchell, and skidded to a stop at the sight of the people with Annie.

"I don't want them in here," he stated.

"Well, they aren't leaving me here alone with you," Annie told him in a matter-of-face tone. "They don't trust you, and neither do I."

"But I love you, Annie," Owen nearly whined.

She shook her head. "I don't believe that anymore."

"I'll go with you to get your things, Annie," Nina murmured, eager to get this over with.

"Thank you," Annie told her, reaching out to squeeze the other woman's hand. She turned to Mitchell and George. "This won't take long."

"Take all the time you need," Mitchell assured her. "George and I can wait right here."

Annie hurried up the steps with Nina behind her. She tugged two suitcases from the closet and tossed clothes at Nina who began rolling them and squeezing them into the suitcase. Once the clothes were packed, Nina called George who carried the suitcases out to the trunk of the car.

Annie tossed her shoes in a bag and Mitchell carried those outside as well. Then she directed the boys to the few items of furniture that had belonged to her before the relationship. Nina helped her carefully stow framed family photos in a box along with other odds and ends. Owen watched silently, his arms crossed in front of him.

Finally, Annie's packing was complete. That was when Owen spoke. "You're making a mistake, Annie."

She shook her head. "No, my mistake was ever thinking I was in love with you," she spat at him.

"But I love you, Annie." The timber of his voice completely changed. "I promise I'll never hurt you again. I'll get counseling, whatever you want if you'll just come back."

Annie shook her head and backed away, but Owen grabbed at her arm. She twisted out of his grasp. Mitchell stepped forward, but Annie put out a hand to stop him. "No, Owen, and don't touch me again."

"Annie, please, I can't live without you," he pleaded.

"Owen, I can't do this anymore," she told him, her voice thick with tears before she turned and jogged to the car.

"Don't you ever touch her again," Mitchell seethed, "or I will be all over you."

"Come on, Mitchell; don't do anything stupid," George cautioned as he prodded his friend toward the truck. They climbed inside with George in the driver's seat.

Annie realized she was trembling as Nina drove away. Tears streamed down her cheeks once more as she leaned her head back against the seat.

Nina reached over and squeezed her hand. "You're a strong woman, Annie."

"I don't feel very strong," Annie admitted with a sniffle.

"You are," Nina assured her. "Now, let's get you home so you can move on with your life."

To Be Continued…


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Being Human. It belongs to Toby Whithouse.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updating this fic. Work has not been kind as of late, and it is sucking all of the creativity and energy right out of me.

The Land of the Living

_Annie realized she was trembling as Nina drove away. Tears streamed down her cheeks once more as she leaned her head back against the seat. _

_Nina reached over and squeezed her hand. "You're a strong woman, Annie."_

"_I don't feel very strong," Annie admitted with a sniffle._

"_You are," Nina assured her. "Now, let's get you home so you can move on with your life."_

Chapter 7

The days had passed quickly for Annie although they were filled with doubt and fear. She had found a job at a small, fairly new design firm. It did not pay much, but at least it was a job and allowed her to pay her part of the rent.

Annie continued to live each day in fear of Owen. Every time someone knocked on the door her breath would catch in her throat and her body would tense until she was certain it was not him on the other side of the door. When she went outside, she always searched the street anxiously before proceeding to the car or the bus stop. It was exhausting to spend so much time worried and tense. She hated living her life this way and vowed to herself that she would get past this.

Annie had not been sleeping well since her split from Owen. He plagued her nightmares and sometimes she woke with a scream on her lips. She'd had two such dreams last night which had left her feeling weary and drained. The day had been a long one, and she was very glad it was Friday. She had the weekend ahead of her to relax.

To calm her frazzled nerves, she puttered around in the kitchen making a pot of tea.

"Are you all right?" a voice called out behind her.

Annie jumped and hot water splashed from the mug over her hand. She cursed and dropped the mug on the floor. It shattered sending shards of porcelain across the linoleum in the kitchen. "Nina, you scared me!" she gasped.

"Oh, Annie, I'm sorry," Nina apologized as she hurried forward to grab a towel to sop of the tea. "Are you burned badly?"

Annie ran her burning hand under cool water at the sink and shook her head. "No, it's not bad. It just stings a little. Leave that mess, Nina. I'll clean it up."

Nina waved Annie away dismissively and retrieved the broom from the corner of the kitchen. "I'll have this cleaned up in no time," she smiled. "You just fix yourself another mug of tea."

"Care to join me?" Annie asked hopefully.

Nina smiled. "Sure. It seems as if we never have time for girl talk."

The women settled at the table with their tea. Annie cradled her red mug between her hands and leaned forward inhaling the calming scent of her tea.

"So," Nina began carefully, "how are you doing, Annie?"

"Fine," was Annie's immediate response.

Nina sighed. "Annie, Owen nearly killed you and then he beat you up. He even came here threatening you. I hardly think anyone would be fine after experiencing something like that."

Annie twirled her mug nervously between her fingers and shrugged before looking up at Nina. "I will be fine – eventually," she admitted. "I have a job and a good place to live, good friends." Annie smiled at Nina. "I will be all right."

"Of course you will," Nina soothed. "You are strong, and we have your back."

Annie nodded. "And I am more grateful for you and the boys than words can express."

"Would – would you ever consider going back to Owen?" Nina asked hesitantly.

Annie sighed. "I miss the fun Owen, the man he was when I first met him. We used to laugh all the time and go to movies and cuddle on the couch." She stared absently into her mug of tea before continuing. "That's the Owen I loved and miss. The Owen I left," she paused and shook her head, "no, I won't go back."

Nina reached across the table and placed her hand on Annie's forearm. "I think he would eventually kill you."

Annie blinked back sudden tears. "I know; I think so, too," she admitted.

The back door breezed open and startled both women. Mitchell shrugged out of his black leather jacket before catching sight of Annie's tear-stained face. "What is it, Annie?" he asked in concern, his hand falling to rest on her shoulder. "If Owen did anything…" he trailed off.

Annie shook her head and sniffled. "No, it's all right. Nina and I were talking, and suddenly the water works just started." She wiped at her eyes and forced a chuckle. "I'm fine." She stood and Mitchell's hand fell back to his side. "I'm going to wash my face." Quickly, she dumped her nearly empty mug of tea into the sink and hurried upstairs to be alone.

Mitchell looked at Nina in confusion. "What just happened?"

Nina sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Owen has put her through hell. I think she deserves to shed a few tears; don't you?"

Mitchell sighed. "I don't know what else to do to help her."

"Just be there for her," Nina told him as she rinsed out her empty mug and placed it in the sink. "Listen if she wants to talk or just keep her company if she doesn't. That's all we can do right now."

He nodded and scrubbed a hand through his unruly curls thoughtfully.

When Annie returned to the kitchen a short while later, Mitchell was at the table nursing a mug of coffee as he read the newspaper. He greeted her with a warm smile. "I was thinking of ordering pizza and watching a movie tonight. Care to join me?" he asked. "Nina and George are going out with her parents."

Annie nodded. "Pizza and a movie sound nice," she admitted. Secretly, she was glad that Mitchell hadn't suggested going out; she felt safer staying home.

"Great!" he beamed at her. "I'll call in the pizza." Closing the paper, he left it haphazardly on the kitchen table.

Annie chuckled under her breath and picked up the paper, folding it carefully and placing it to the side. Mitchell made her smile; he gave her a feeling of security. She wondered when the young man she'd met at the hospital had become her best friend. She could hear the comforting rumble of his voice in the other room as he ordered the pizza over the phone, the Irish lilt to his words making her smile.

"Annie," Nina breezed into the kitchen breathlessly, "George and I are going to dinner with my parents."

George trudged behind her, his face set in a scowl. "They hate me. It is going to be an evening of misery."

"They do not hate you, George," Nina protested with a sigh.

"Yes, they do!" he argued.

Annie patted George on the shoulder. "You will be all right; just go get it over with."

He adjusted his glasses on his nose and grumbled as he followed Nina out of the back door.

Annie felt sorry for her friend. Owen's parents had never liked her either; she knew exactly how he felt.

"Pizza will be here in thirty minutes!" Mitchell called from the other room. "You can pick the movie."

"I'll be right there," Annie called back. She relished the thought of spending the evening with a good friend, a time to relax and laugh and get to know one another better.

Mitchell appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Want a beer?"

She shook her head. "I'll just have a soda." It was when Owen drank that he had been at his worst; somehow drinking had lost its appeal to her.

Mitchell seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts. "I'll just have a soda as well," he commented.

Annie felt warmth spread through her. He was leaving the beer alone for her sake. She opened the fridge and grabbed two cans from the door before joining Mitchell in the living room.

He gestured to their small stash of movies on the shelf. "Take your pick."

Annie moved to stand in front of the large bookcase and ran her fingers over the titles on the DVD cases. "Maybe a classic," she murmured under her breath. "Casablanca," she finally stated as she pulled the DVD case forward with a fingertip before plucking it off the shelf.

"Good choice," Mitchell commented from his slouched position on the sofa.

Annie grinned at him before she opened the plastic case and inserted the DVD into the DVD player.

A knock on the door signaled the arrival of their dinner. "Pizza's here!" Mitchell exclaimed happily as he surged to his feet and shoved a hand into his pocket to tug out some crumpled bills.

It didn't take long for him to pay for the pizza and shut the door behind the delivery guy. Mitchell placed the greasy pizza box on the coffee table before he flopped down onto the couch once again.

Annie sat down next to him and smiled when he flipped open the pizza box and allowed her to take the first piece. She bit into the cheesy, stringy pizza and sighed happily. It had been a long time since she'd allowed herself to indulge in something that was full of calories and carbs. Owen would have fussed had he seen her eating it and told her she was going to get fat. She shoved thoughts of her ex-fiance out of her mind and smiled at Mitchell. "This is great!"

He nodded with his mouth full of pizza as his brown eyes sparkled with contentment. "Uncle Sid's Pizza Palace makes the best pizza," he told her around the food in his mouth. He finished off his slice in record time and took another. When he noticed Annie had finished hers, he flipped open the box. "Have another piece," he told her.

She looked at the pizza indecisively. "Owen said it would make me fat," she murmured quietly without thinking.

"Annie," Mitchell began hesitantly as he paused the movie and closed the pizza box, "one more piece of pizza isn't going to make you fat. You look great, and Owen is a jerk. You barely eat enough as it is. One more piece of pizza will do you a world of good." Mitchell felt anger at Owen bubble in his gut, but he tamped it down as he gently cupped Annie's cheek in his hand.

She tensed at his touch, her heart rate quickening.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, snatching his hand back as if he'd been burned. Owen had abused Annie. His touch had probably scared her. He mentally chastised himself for not thinking.

She shook her head. "No, it's fine, Mitchell," Annie assured him. Reaching out, she placed her hand over his where it rested on his knee. "I guess it is going to take me quite a while to get past Owen."

"There was emotional abuse as well, wasn't there?" Mitchell asked softly. He longed to touch her and pull her close, but he was not sure that a hug from him would be welcome right now.

Annie chewed her bottom lip anxiously as she nodded. "I always just told myself he'd had a bad day or maybe he wasn't feeling well." She shrugged and met Mitchell's eyes with her pain-filled gaze. "I felt like I couldn't do anything right."

"I'm sorry, Annie," Mitchell apologized. "You deserve so much more."

A small smile curved her lips. "Thanks to you and George and Nina I am finally starting to believe that, Mitchell," she said softly.

Mitchell grinned at her and slouched down on the couch once again, but this time allowed his body to lean against Annie. He waited for her reaction and relaxed when she did not tense at his touch.

To Be Continued…


End file.
